The Invisible Boys
by shedoc
Summary: When Voldemort decides to prove a point, Harry pays the price. Pre-slash AU fourth book.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer – I don't own this world… or any other.

Warnings and notes – Harry/Ron pairing of course, which may also mean slash, or pre-slash at the very least. Mention of torture, abuse and general nastiness. For those that insist on fitting things into a cannon timeline this takes place on the train ride to London at the end of the boys fourth year, and events diverge rapidly from there.

A word about ages – I am assuming for the sake of this fic that the twins are already of age. They were in seventh year when Harry hit his fifth and had their apparation license already in the summer holidays, so I am going off the idea that they turned 17 at school and did the apparation training before they went home to the Burrow. That's my theory, and I need it for the story (so there…)

This was written for the person who asked. (Repeatedly… one could almost say badgered… almost)

**The Invisible Boys**

Curse Me Baby One More Time

Although he had felt the Cruciatus at the end of Voldemort's own wand, for some reason the pain that was currently ripping through his body was more than he had ever felt before. Had he been able to do more than scream and writhe, Harry probably would have reasoned that being under the Cruciatus cast by three separate and strong adults was the cause of his extreme discomfort. As it was, he spared no thought to his dignity, to bearing the pain silently and stoically. Living with the Dursley's had taught him that sometimes it was better to just give in and give voice to the pain. Sometimes hearing Harry's pain had been the only thing that had appeased his uncle enough to stop. Unfortunately in this case, it seemed to be spurring his tormentors on.

Harry's wand lay on the ground beside him, scant inches from his hand. The distance may as well have been a mile, for all the good it did him. Harry was rapidly losing control of his body, even thrashing from side to side to relieve the pain was becoming too difficult a task to complete. Nerve damage was setting in, and he didn't even have the solace of unconsciousness to flee to. Whoever had come up with the Cruciatus had been very careful to ensure that their victim didn't deny the pain by escaping into the realms of sleep. There was no rest for the victim of the pain curse save madness, and that alone was enough to justify its status as an Unforgivable Curse. Harry would have endured a thousand times worse pain though, to prevent what happened next.

A familiar well loved voice shouted in the distance and the pain decreased abruptly. Two of the casters had ceased acting upon Harry's feebly twitching body and had turned to meet the wrath of Arthur Weasley's youngest son. At the age of fifteen, Ron had almost as much experience duelling Dark Wizards as an apprentice Auror, something that he had gained at Harry's side. In his heart of hearts Harry wished it otherwise, though he was wise enough not to air such a sentiment. Ron was stalwart in his support of Harry, and had been ever since the shock of the first task had shown him a little of what it was like to be placed under impossible expectations. He no longer envied Harry's fame, and was even more supportive of Harry than ever.

Harry was no longer sure how they had become separated from each other, or where the rest of the students going home for the summer were, or even where the Hogwarts Express was for that matter. All he was sure of was that one moment they'd all been sitting quietly together, each trying to distract the other from their own morbid and worried thoughts, and the next the train was shuddering to a messy halt, while grey robed attackers, their faces hidden by bone white masks, stormed the train and began casting spells.

"Crabbe, Goyle! Leave him!" the annoyed aristocratic tones of Lucius Malfoy signalled an end to the pain spell, and Harry forced himself to move his hand, which weighed an inordinate amount, to grasp his forgotten wand, "Our Master will not be interested in a mere Weasley!"

Living with the Dursley's had taught Harry an awful lot about pain, and one of those lessons had been to move quickly whenever respite presented itself. Ignoring his very real wish to simply pass out and escape the pain, or at the very least stay still, thus giving ragged nerve endings time to recover, he lifted his wand slightly from the ground, listening intently to the battle that was taking place outside of his very limited field of vision. Ron was giving the adults a much harder duel than they'd thought, but Harry knew that it was only a matter of time before his friend was overcome by the grown men he was facing.

Harry forced himself to roll onto his side, grateful that Malfoy was easily distracted, and squinted blearily through his glasses at the scene before him. Crabbe and Goyle were tripping over their own robes – it looked as if Ron had got them with a version of the enlarging charm that mothers used on the clothes of their growing children – and one of them was also trying to fight off Ginny's dreaded bat bogey hex. As Harry watched Malfoy made an impatient noise and raised his own wand, beginning an incantation in time with his two companions. All three different spells converged on Ron and a small explosion buffeted the clearing that Harry was lying in.

Mr Crabbe, or Mr Goyle, Harry couldn't tell them apart, laughed nastily, and Harry stared with a sort of bleak horror at the small boy that had replaced his gangly best friend. The child, for that was what Ron had somehow been reduced to, was unconscious, and still wore the casual clothes and ratty summer robe that Ron had changed into once out of sight of the Hogsmede station.

"Kill him and be done with it," Malfoy ordered. The words lit a fuse in Harry. He could bear pain, deprivation and humiliation easily if it only affected him but there was no way that he was going to allow his friend to be killed while he stood by. He'd been too slow to save Cedric, but he'd vowed that would not happen again.

"No!" he screamed, and something exploded out of him. The world became a very noisy and bright place before dwindling abruptly to black.

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	2. Chapter 2

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Coming and Going

It took Harry a moment to realise that the irritating hooting wasn't coming from him, but instead from an owl that was circling around the clearing he lay in. Reluctantly, he prised his eyes open and blearily took in the scene that lay before him. The fathers of his classmates lay still upon the ground, though Harry did not believe they were dead, or even permanently unconscious. He forced his pain wracked body into a wobbling semblance of a crawl and moved from adult to adult, collecting wands as he did and eventually attaining his ultimate goal, the small slumped form of his best friend.

Harry was no expert in children, but if Ron was more than four years old, he'd eat his wand. Ron's own wand lay beside him, and Harry tucked it away with the others that he'd collected today, making a mental note to give it back if Ron woke and proved to be in his right mind. Harry had no idea if the combination of spells had acted to somehow reverse Ron's age, or if the redhead had merely been shrunk to the size of a four-year-old, but either way Harry wasn't about to let the temperamental teen have free access to his wand until the first blush of realisation had passed.

The owl's hooting was really getting on his nerves, and Harry wondered dizzily if the owl couldn't deliver the mail because the recipient was still unconscious.

"Merlin's beard! Just drop it you stupid creature!" he snarled and then yelped as the owl promptly dropped the letter corner first on his head. With a final spiteful hoot it flapped away from the clearing, every feather radiating offence and disdain. Rubbing his over sensitive scalp it took Harry a moment to realise that the letter was addressed to him, and even longer for weakened fingers to prise the flap out of the wax seal and open it.

The contents of the letter made his blood boil before sending him into frozen panic. The Department for Regulation of Underage Magic were on their way to snap his wand for performing a series of serious curses outside of the Hogwarts Express. According to the letter he was already expelled from Hogwarts, and to make matters worse it sounded as if there was to be some sort of hearing to judge if criminal charges should be pressed.

It was so unfair! He'd been defending himself and others from Death Eaters, grown men who seemed hell bent on killing or capturing a number of children, himself included. He'd only cast in self defence, it wasn't like he was off hexing Muggles or trying to deliberately cause trouble. One thing was sure, he wasn't waiting around here to get his wand snapped, no matter what the letter said, and if Ron was in the same boat his friend would have to come with him. As Ron was still unconscious, it looked like Harry would have to carry him, and that was going to hurt. It was bad enough carrying himself, but he didn't want to do even more magic and make his situation completely untenable. Perhaps the Headmaster would be able to argue that he'd been defending himself if Harry didn't cast any more magic now. Unaware that his thoughts were so muddled as to be ridiculous, Harry steeled himself for the effort of picking Ron up and moving him carefully to the shelter of some nearby bushes.

Before he could move there was an abrupt pop, and a dark robed, white masked figure arrived in the centre of the clearing. Harry didn't know the man, though it had to be said that he wouldn't be able to recognise all of the Death Eaters. Malfoy was easy – he'd met the man before, and the blonde had identified his accomplices by name. Harry hadn't exactly been taking a roll call in the graveyard where Voldemort had been restored to a body, and although he could remember a few names, their figures were hazy blurs at best.

Caught out in the open, yards away from any kind of cover and with his wand in his pocket, Harry grit his teeth and waited for the inevitable curse that was sure to be cast his way. Despite the fact that the figure had arrived side on to Harry, there was no way that he could have missed the shaking teen and his small best friend. After a few moments Harry realised that the man hadn't seen him, going instead to his fellow Death Eaters and stirring them with a contemptuous toe.

"Fools," the voice was also unfamiliar, "The Dark Lord will be furious. Ah well, best not to let them be captured by the Ministry, no matter that they were bested by a mere half blood."

Despite the fact that he had walked quite close to Harry, and was in fact staring right at him, the man gave no sign that he knew his target was right in front of him. Instead he piled his fellow Death Eaters together and spelled their robes into port keys. Once they were gone he glanced around one more time and disapparated with another sharp pop, leaving Harry alone with the unconscious Ron and rather more shaken than before.

His first thought was that they were dead, that they had somehow become ghosts, but after a moment he managed to force his panicked thoughts to slow and reasoned things out. His love of Hedwig had led him to find out quite a lot about the owls that the Wizarding world used to deliver its mail, and that stood him in good stead now. Owls were bred to be sensitive to magic and its users, hence only certain types of owl being suitable for mail delivery. You couldn't just pluck a chick from its nest and train it, in fact the breeding and training of mail birds was highly regulated and strictly controlled. Owls that had been properly trained would deliver a note to any recipient no matter where they were with two exceptions.

Exception one – the recipient was deceased, which would cause the owl to return the message to the sender undelivered. Exception two – the person was employing a deliberate series of spells designed to hide their magical signature, the very thing the owls homed in on, from external detection. Even Muggles, with their low level of innate and inert magic, were detectable by an owl. Since the owl from the Ministry had clearly heard Harry's frustrated demand, it was obvious he wasn't dead or magically shielded. The Death Eater had been unable to see him though, which made Harry suspect some sort of disillusionment spell. Precisely what sort of spell, Harry was unsure, as he'd been almost unconscious when he cast it, and definitely out of control.

Operating on the assumption that people would be able to hear but not see him, Harry once again gathered Ron painfully into his arms and staggered into the nearby bushes. He was far too weak to think about carrying Ron any distance in search of help, and so he lay down beside his youthful friend and curled up as comfortably as he could. He would wait and see what attitude the Ministry wizards displayed when they arrived. If it was someone he knew he would risk revealing himself to get some much needed help. If not, he would have to wait until Ron woke and then walk with the boy to find help for them both. He knew that they weren't too far away from Ottery St Catchpole and the Burrow, something they'd been feebly talking about on the train just before they were attacked.

There was no way that Harry was going to let anyone snap his wand, no matter what laws they were operating under, and as he didn't want to make his situation worse by using magic, he had a feeling that he was in for a long and difficult few days.

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	3. Chapter 3

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Trials and Tirbulations

The next visitor to Harry's clearing was a set of Witches and Wizards, who were highly disgruntled about being there. They were not dressed as Death Eaters, and it didn't take Harry long to work out that these were the people who wanted to snap his wand.

"… I'm telling you, the youth of today have no respect for authority!" the eldest of them all was complaining in a reedy voice, "In my time I would have died on the spot before unleashing magic in the open while underage! And I'd certainly have had the courtesy to wait for the Ministry of Magic when ordered to do so!"

"Come off it Hartley," the younger of the trio scoffed. Her hair was brightly coloured and as Harry watched it changed from red to green, "You know that the Hogwarts train was attacked…"

"I know no such thing," Hartley returned primly, "That has yet to be confirmed."

"Our Department has several…" she put her hands on her hips and scowled, but they were interrupted by the third bald Wizard, his dark pate gleaming in the mid afternoon sun. Harry couldn't believe that with all that had happened the day wasn't over yet, but called his wandering thoughts back to the trio in front of him with difficulty.

"That's enough Tonks;" the Wizards voice was deep and calm, "And Hartley, you and I both know that there were only three exceptions in the entire school to the breach of the Underage Decree this day. Of all of those who breached the Decree, only young Harry Potter is being charged. Even you must be able to tell that this is highly irregular, if not downright inappropriate. The fact of the matter is that we are here to find Mr Potter and return with him to the Ministry, nothing more or less. If we can also locate any of the still missing students, that would also be acceptable. As your owl was able to deliver its foolish letter, we know he is alive and in the area. Let us concentrate on what we are here to do."

Harry watched as they split up and spread out, looking carefully under the few bushes that offered clear hiding places, his included. Hartley looked right through Harry without even noticing he was there, but Harry was relieved when the witch Tonks called the older man away. She was ushering a mixed group of first and third years into the clearing, and Harry was relieved to see Ginny among them. She was unhurt, and gripping her wand tensely.

The tallest of the trio introduced himself as Auror Shacklebolt, and once it was determined that none of the teens were injured the Auror asked if they had seen Harry or anyone else.

"They… the Death Eaters… they tortured him," a first year Hufflepuff spoke up, tears lining his cheeks, "He was screaming so loudly at the end."

"We couldn't get to him, there was some sort of shield up," Ginny muttered, "And then we came across the first years."

"Harry made us hide," Gilly Anderson, the Slytherin that Harry had told to make sure her year mates were safe stepped forward, "He was trying to lead them off, and then they put up the shield, and then Weasley got through it from the off side, and then there was an explosion. Then that lot showed up and we made them hide too. Harry made me promise to hide."

'Good girl,' Harry thought queasily, glad she'd taken his instructions to heart. Of the six first years he'd run into, she'd been the most determined to get back to the train, and he'd had no compunction about making her the leader while he drew their pursuers away. Ginny looked concerned at the news that one of her many brothers had gotten through the Death Eaters shield. It must have seemed logical to assume that Harry and the unnamed Weasley were even now with the Death Eaters. The first years didn't seem to know what had happened after the explosion, but it turned out that they'd crammed themselves into a hollow log that they'd magically engorged and then stuck their wands out of the knotholes to act as defence points. Quite a cunning idea, all told.

The Aurors looked grim, and even Hartley didn't have anything to say to the blatant display of underage magic, and moments later they were getting the children organised to hold a port key. It wasn't until after the group had disappeared that Harry's addled mind told him he should have gone with them. The Aurors had said that they weren't there to snap his wand, and even if he'd been under arrest, then Ron could have gotten some needed treatment to reverse the spells he was under.

Before he could do more than call himself a name under his breath Ron was stirring, finally showing signs of life, and Harry put a shaking hand on the small chest in an attempt at offering comfort. He didn't know what Ron had been like at a young age, though the slightly suspicious nature and stubbornness were too ingrained in the teenage version to have been a new development at school.

Familiar eyes blinked up at him, and Harry offered a wincing smile, hoping that Ron wouldn't overreact too much when realised he was suddenly shorter than he'd been in the morning. He watched small hands rub eyes and the way the little boy looked around, as if searching for something familiar. It was with a sinking feeling that Harry pulled his hand back as Ron wriggled away and sat up, scowling suspiciously and folding little arms over a little chest.

"Who are you? Where am I?" the voice was a higher version of the slightly husky voice that Harry was used to, and in any other circumstances, Harry would have smiled.

"We're in the woods you can see from the attic of your house, Ron," Harry knew that much from previous conversations they'd had on the Express, "You… came out here to help me when I was in trouble."

"What sort of trouble?" the suspicious scowl was not going away and Harry cautiously shifted his position, fruitlessly looking for some more comfortable way to sit. The pain was a constant all over nagging presence, and Harry desperately hoped that the nerves weren't permanently damaged. He didn't think he'd be able to cope with this kind of pain for long.

"Some Death Eaters attacked the Hogwarts Express, and we were trying to help the younger students defend themselves. I led a small group off and you came to help."

"I don't go to Hogwarts," Ron stated, proving that his intelligence hadn't lessened with his age, "And you're not in uniform."

"The Death Eaters cursed you, Ron," Harry sighed, "I don't really know what with, but its changed your age … you do go to Hogwarts with me, you're just not usually this small. I'm sorry; I know it sounds like utter bollocks…" Harry ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore its shaking. Ron gasped and leaned forward.

"You're Harry Potter," he murmured, awe upon his face, "You're… really my friend?"

"Yes," Harry had forgotten the cursed scar, but sat still while the suddenly captivated four-year-old peered at it from close quarters. He had to admit it was rather disconcerting to have his friend interested in something he'd noticed and dismissed a long time ago. Ron never thought about Harry's scar unless it was hurting him. This Ron stared at it from close quarters and even ran a small finger over it. Harry flinched, he couldn't help it and the boy pulled back with a hurried apology.

"It's ok," Harry shivered, the unexpected touch jangling through him. No one touched the scar except him, and now Voldemort, not even Madam Pomfrey. Ron settled on his knees in front of Harry and looked him over closely.

"Why would you be friends with me? My big brothers are… much cooler…" the admission looked like it hurt to say, but Harry knew that the younger version of his friend was still honest enough to be able to concede such things. Ron's brothers were cooler in that they were at school, or twins, or about to go to school. As for why Harry was his friend and not theirs…

"Well, mainly because when we first met you took one look at me and decided that I needed to learn all about Wizard sweets. You didn't care who I was or think that I was some kind of freak; I was just another boy who you could talk to. You were pretty much the coolest person I'd ever met, and you didn't mind that I didn't know all the Wizarding stuff that you took for granted. And after a while, we got to know each other properly, and that was it really," Harry stumbled through the explanation, hoping that it would make sense to the younger boy. The reasons for their friendship were many and kept changing, but mostly Harry was Ron's friend because Ron didn't mind Harry. As for why Ron was Harry's friend, well that was something that Harry had never asked. He'd been grateful to have a friend and reluctant to question it. Ron looked as if he was thinking hard, his little face all scrunched up, and Harry tried to marshal his thoughts for another attempt. He needn't have worried, because before he could open his mouth, the boy in front of him made a decision and stuck out his hand.

"Ronnie Weasley," the redhead smiled, and Harry grinned back, taking the proffered hand and shaking it solemnly.

"Harry Potter," he replied.

Out in the middle of the clearing there was a sharp pop.

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	4. Chapter 4

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Short Help

It took some time to calm Dobby down. He could somehow see partially through Harry's spell, but was very evasive when Harry asked for more details. Dobby was very distressed, and Harry spent quite a bit of time soothing his many worries and pained utterances. Part of Dobby's distress was at finding Harry in such poor shape, and part was because when he first arrived and came running over calling Harry's name Ronnie grabbed a nearby stick and tried to beat the elf off, standing protectively in front of Harry as he did. Between the two of them they made enough fuss and bother to set Harry's already taught nerves on edge. In the end, Harry had pulled Ronnie into his lap and hugged the stridently yelling four-year-old to calm him down. Dobby had been further upset when he'd realised that Harry Potter's Wheezy had been shrunk and it was altogether a rather strenuous ten minutes for the green eyed teen, whose nerves were rapidly being stretched to breaking point.

Finally Dobby consented to sit with them, which he did, boldly placing a hand on Harry's arm as the green eyed teen told him what had happened. The elf inched closer and closer as Harry explained what he'd seen and heard, knowing that the Headmaster was likely to ask Dobby to report back to him once his errand, whatever it was, had been completed. As Harry talked, Ronnie insisted on snuggling into his lap and patting his chest. Harry appreciated the kind gestures, though he hadn't expected that Ronnie would offer them – the teenage version of his friend had always been a little awkward when someone was in need of reassurance. Once the tale was done Dobby insisted on hugging Harry again before giving the teen the items that he was carrying in one of his many hats. He had with him a small sack that could fit in a wizards pocket and would provide them with food and drink, as well as two sleeping bags that rolled up to a really small size or unrolled at the flick of a wrist. He also had instructions from the Headmaster.

"Harry Potter is to head for the Burrow as soon as he can," Dobby shook his head, his big eyes wide with worry. Harry didn't need to be Hermione to guess that the elf didn't think that Harry was capable of walking such a long distance, "Dobby has a map for Harry Potter to follow. Harry Potter is to avoid anyone noticing him. Dobby was to give Harry Potter his fathers' cloak, but Dobby can see that Harry Potter doesn't need it. Harry Potter is a great Wizard, yes he is! Headmaster Dumbledore said that if Harry Potter is badly hurt he is to tell Dobby so Dobby can get him a port key."

From the way that Dobby was looking so intently at him, it was clear that the elf wanted more than anything to supply Harry and Ron with that port key. Harry bit his lip. The nerve damage was excruciating, sapping his energy and severely limiting his range of movement, but otherwise he wasn't hurt. He certainly should be able to make the days walk to the Burrow with Ronnie, provided they took it easy. Very, very easy. On the other hand, Ronnie needed immediate treatment – Harry had no idea if his friends new age could be reversed or if he'd have to grow up again, but he had a feeling that the longer they waited the harder it might be to reverse the spells. Add to that the fact that he didn't really know what the three spells that had hit Ronnie and the fact that he'd cast a spell of his own on his friend, and Harry was becoming ever increasingly concerned that Ronnie's condition could become permanent the longer he remained so young. Apparently the amount of time it took him to weave his way through those torturous thoughts was long enough for the four year old on his lap to make the decision for them.

"He needs the port key," Ronnie said firmly to the elf that was nodding fervently and gripping Harry's sleeve, "Look, he's shaking and he's pale. He looks like Percy did after he ate something the twin gave him."

"I think we need the port key," Harry agreed reluctantly, hating to give in and admit that he needed help. Adults, he had learned, were not to be trusted. Self reliance was something he'd come to be proud of, and something that had only been reinforced in all of his years at Hogwarts. Asking for help was something that the Dursley's had beaten out of him at a very young age, and even though Harry knew he was in no condition to go traipsing around the woods and had no alternative but to take the offered help, something inside him still wailed in protest at his decision.

Dobby patted the arm he'd been holding on to, and then stroked Harry's hair gently, tears welling in his eyes. It was very comforting, in an odd kind of way. Harry had to work hard not to lean into the touch too much.

"Dobby will go at once Harry Potter," the little elf promised in a wavering voice. Harry nodded grimly and gave Ronnie a hug before pushing the boy gently off his lap. Ronnie pulled a face at him but didn't protest losing his comfortable perch.

"In the meantime we'll start walking," Harry was unable to sit and wait passively for rescue, not even the knowledge that walking would hurt was enough to make him stay still, "You can still find us if we start walking, can't you?"

"Dobby is always able to find his Harry Potter," Dobby said adamantly, and Harry frowned, wondering what the oddly phrased sentence really meant as the elf popped away. Ronnie sighed, breaking his concentration and got up, dusting his clothes off and stretching his legs. They'd crawled out of the bushes during the initial excitement, and now it was simply a matter of standing up and orienting themselves with the map.

The map actually spun on the parchment, kind of like a compass. There was a picture of the clearing that they were in, and a narrow path showing the way to the Burrow. It was oddly detailed, showing the trees and bushes almost individually, but unlike the Marauders Map there were no little dots showing names and locations of the people in the woods. Harry noted that they'd have to keep that in mind while they were on the move; the advantage of his father's map was that he could keep an eye out for friend and foe while he skulked around the castles halls.

It wasn't hard for them to figure out which direction they should be walking in, and Ronnie insisted on Harry using the large stick he'd tried to beat Dobby off with as a walking stick. Harry loaded Dobby's supplies into his pockets, then hoisted himself to his feet with a pained grunt and steadied himself using his new walking stick. Ronnie took his free hand, smiling up at Harry encouragingly, and they started walking, following the map to Ronnie's home.

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	5. Chapter 5

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Walk In The Woods

At first, Ronnie was full of energy, running this way and that to look at things, scampering over to Harry to show him interesting rocks and leaves and asking a thousand and one questions. For his part Harry concentrated on walking forward, following the map carefully. Answering all of Ronnie's questions would have taken a reference library, or access to Hermione's brain, but fortunately the four year old was happy with the odd 'I don't know', and the ever inspired 'what do you think?' which allowed him to spout off his own four year old logic, beaming at Harry all the while.

Walking was a particularly interesting exercise in pain and self control. He didn't want to alarm the child he was with by collapsing to the ground screaming in pain, but that was on the cards at some point in the future. When Ronnie first slowed down and stopped asking questions, an hour into their not particularly fast walk, Harry called a rest halt on a fallen tree, and they took turns fishing in the little bag that Dobby had given them.

"This bag is way cool," Ronnie approved as he bit into his potted meat sandwich. They'd both gotten an actual glass of pumpkin juice to wash their sandwiches down. Harry's didn't taste quite right, but as taste was controlled by the tongue, which he had a vague notion also had nerves in it that were probably damaged, he wasn't too surprised.

"It is, isn't it," Harry agreed, smiling when Ronnie beamed up at him, "Dobby is a life saver."

"Is he my friend when I get bigger?" Ronnie asked around a mouthful. Only years of practice at decoding his friend's conversation during meal times allowed Harry to figure out what he'd said, and even then it took him a moment or two.

"Yes, he's your friend as well," Harry took another bite of his cheese and pickle sandwich, "He calls you my Wheezy."

"Because I wheeze?"

"No," Harry laughed at the vaguely horrified tone, "I think he has trouble saying Weasley. You don't wheeze."

"Then are you my Potter?" Ronnie demanded, and Harry nodded at once. He was Ron Weasley's Potter, or more accurately Ron's Harry, though he'd never described himself as such out loud before. Ronnie was very pleased to hear this and put his sandwich down long enough to give Harry an impulsive hug, missing the teen's involuntary wince of pain when he squeezed too hard for painful joints.

"I like having you for a friend," Ronnie confided, and Harry smiled down at the messy red hair. He liked having Ron for a friend as well, and had never regretted turning Malfoy's hand down on the train. Even this year when Ron had accused him of keeping secrets from the redhead about Harry's unwilling entry to the Tri Wizard Tournament, Harry had considered the youngest son of Arthur Weasley his friend. He'd been devastated that the two of them weren't speaking this year, and more worried about that than the dragon at one point.

Once the snack was over, they got up again and once more started walking. Ronnie was happy to bounce along at Harry's side, not seeming to mind the slower than normal pace that Harry was moving at. Then again, Ronnie probably didn't remember how fast Harry usually walked and didn't realise how bad the pain was for him now.

They did another hour, and then Ronnie needed to duck behind a tree. Harry took the opportunity to do the same, and the mismatched pair sat down again on a convenient log. This time the bag gave them fruit to eat, and Harry watched the little boy devour two apples in short order while he munched slowly through a banana. Harry had no idea what the time was, as his watch hadn't survived its immersion in the lake, but from the angle of the sun he thought it was getting on for evening.

The sun didn't set until 8 or 9 o'clock at this time of year, so by the time it was dark, Ronnie was truly tired. He'd stopped nattering away and was plodding along stolidly, holding Harry's hand. The absence of chatter made it harder for Harry to move, as he'd been using the need to focus on what his young friend said to ignore some of the pain. He wasn't so selfish as to force the tired child to keep talking, which meant that the last part of their walk was even more painful. They'd had dinner, supper and a snack, and when Ron needed another 'tree break' Harry decided that they'd gone far enough. There was a bank of bushes that would offer some protection from the weather if it changed on them, and Harry let Ronnie unroll the sleeping bags and arrange them just so. They climbed into the bags shoes and all, mainly because Harry didn't want them to have to run barefoot through the woods if they were somehow discovered and attacked. He also thought he'd have a job of doing his shoelaces up in the morning, if the increasing stiffness of his hands was anything to go by. He wasn't sure if Ronnie could do his own laces and didn't want to offend him by asking.

For a while, Ronnie lay next to Harry and whispered a few questions about the stars they could see through the trees. He fell silent gradually, and Harry thought he was asleep when the red head surprised him with another question.

"Do you think Mum's cross that I'm not home?"

Harry's throat ached. Once again he was wishing violently that he had a mum to worry about him the way Ron's did. No matter what Dobby reported, Molly Weasley would be worrying about her son, something that Harry had never had happen to him. The Dursley's would certainly not be worried about him, in fact Uncle Vernon was probably enraged that Harry hadn't called ahead to let him know that he was under attack and not likely to make it to the train station. Although the Dursley's used the trip to Kings Cross to pick up various items that the stores in Little Whinging didn't offer, they always complained bitterly about having to collect him.

"No, Ronnie," Harry rolled onto his side to offer a solemn smile to the grave little face, "I don't think she's cross. She might be a bit worried, but I'm sure Dobby has told her that you're ok."

"Mm," Ronnie didn't seem convinced, but he rolled closer to Harry and snuggled in, one hand latching sleepily onto Harry's shirt, "Where do you think Dobby is now? He said he'd be back."

Harry had been thinking about that, and had come to the conclusion that there was something – possibly the Ministry – that was preventing the Headmaster from sending the promised port key. Fudge had not been happy to hear what Harry had reported about the events leading to Cedric's death, and Harry had no doubt that the politician was riding Dumbledore closely, interfering with everything, and being a general nuisance.

"Dobby will be back as soon as he can. I think the Headmaster is very busy taking care of all of his students at the moment. We're not in any real danger right now, and it would be pretty hard for anyone to find us while my spell is up. Don't worry, Ronnie, we'll be ok."

"I know," Ronnie mumbled, "Becos you're my friend."

The boy seemed to fall asleep instantly afterwards, leaving Harry with a warm glow. He watched the clearing around them for a few moments before giving in and fleeing the pain in favour of sleeping. They still had almost a whole day of walking to get through if they were to reach the Burrow tomorrow, and Harry knew that he wasn't going to be able to walk any faster to cut down their travel time.

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	6. Chapter 6

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Double Trouble

Once again, the peace of the clearing was disturbed by a pop and two sharp cracks. Harry was half thinking of writing a letter of complaint to the manager of these woods – it seemed like every two minutes someone was popping in or out of a clearing. He knew this wasn't true rationally, but he was too uncomfortable to be rational at the moment. They were fortunate that the full moon had been three days ago, so the moon was still bright enough to provide lighting for the small clearing that Harry's bush bordered.

At some time in the night, Harry had rolled onto his back, a position which offered the most support to his throbbing, aching body. Ronnie had also shifted so that he was using Harry as a pillow, cuddled up to the teens chest with his little arms wrapped around as much of his protector as he could reach. Harry felt a cosy sense of warmth at the trust his friend was giving him in his sleep, and tightened his grip for a moment. The sounds had also woken Ronnie, and the little boy was stirring cautiously to see who had arrived.

"Are you sure this…"

"Is the right place?"

The split speech identified their visitors at once, and Harry felt a combination of relief and concern. The Twins would be able to help them out, as they were of age, he just hoped they could restrain their sense of mischief. He didn't think he'd be able to cope with a Canary Cream or a Ton Tongue Toffee right now.

"Dobby is sure," the elf's piping voice was a lot firmer than Harry had expected. Dobby had always been very respectful when speaking to Harry or his friends. Harry turned his head, and smiled at the sight of the Weasley Twins standing on either side of Dobby, peering about the clearing. The elf was looking right at Harry, worry etched on his face. Apparently the sleeping bags weren't visible to the casual onlooker either, and Harry wondered how the elf had managed that. Part of the reason for sleeping under a bush had been that Harry thought the bags would need concealing.

"Who's that?" Ronnie whispered, and his voice carried just loud enough for the twins to jump in surprise and look around even more.

"That's Fred and George, all grown up," Harry replied, patting the small back his hand was resting on, "Why don't you go and say hello?"

In a way this was a mild prank of his own. The Twins couldn't see them of course, but they could hear them, and Harry was fairly sure that if Ronnie touched them the Twins would feel it. With no idea where they were or what they were doing this was an excellent opportunity for their very little brother to get some of his own back for past pranks. Ronnie evidently felt the same way because he grinned at Harry and scrambled out of his bag before bursting out of the bush and throwing himself at Fred, the nearest Twin.

Fred yelped when Ronnie crashed into his legs and chirped a cheeky hello at him. Harry was too busy breathing through the pain that Ron's jostling had inadvertently caused to fully appreciate the look on the older teens face. The bush had of course been disturbed as Ronnie leapt out, and while George also jumped in surprise when Ronnie grabbed him Fred pulled his wand out of his sleeve.

"Being lazy there, Harry? Time to get up!" Fred laughed, watching his Twin pat the air in a Ronnie shape, finding the little boys sides and tickling him with long fingers. Ronnie laughed and pulled back, realising that as long as they couldn't see him they couldn't really get revenge. Harry watched the little boy circle around George and tickle him in retaliation before leaping back again. George let out a very girly squeal that had Ronnie almost breathless with laughter.

"I suppose you think that's funny," Fred laughed, looking at his Twin's indignant face. Harry would have laughed too, but at that moment Fred sent _rictusempra_ into the bushes where he lay. The tickling curse ripped through already over stressed nerves like another round of the Cruciatus, and Harry couldn't hold back the strangled scream that tore through his already abused throat. Ronnie went from laughing to furious in a bare second, and he lunged at his older brother, his little face a mask of fury.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" he shrieked, but Fred was already removing the spell with a hurried _finite_. George hurried to help contain the invisible fury that was attacking his Twin, and got bitten for his troubles. Dobby rushed to Harry's side and knelt next to him, stroking his hair and face and crooning gently in an attempt to comfort the agonised teen.

"Shh master, Dobby has you," the words were very soft, and the small capable hands were a welcome touch, giving Harry something else to focus on. Out in the clearing, the Twins had finally corralled Ronnie, and George was examining the bite mark at the base of his thumb with a rueful expression on his face.

"He's definitely four, Fred," the Twin sighed, "Ronnie stopped biting when he was five, last time."

"Serves you right," Ronnie sulked and kicked Fred's ankle again for good measure, making his brother yelp and scowl, "You hurt my Harry!"

"Oh ho! Your Harry, is he?" Fred smirked down at the empty space beside him. He had hold of the back of Ronnie's collar, which put his hand out of easy biting range. It must have been an odd sensation, to be gripping something that you couldn't see, and therefore be unable to predict what it was about to do next. The Twins were in Gryffindor for a reason.

"Yes!" Ronnie insisted, "He said he was!"

Before things could get even further out of hand, Harry stirred himself and let Dobby help him out of his sleeping bag. The rustling of the bush attracted the Twins attention, and though Harry couldn't find the energy to stand in the light of this latest wave of pain, he could at least sit up without help.

"That's enough, you two," he rasped, "Let him go, Fred."

Ronnie gave Fred another solid kick and squirmed free, running to Harry and hugging him anxiously, using a very light touch. He also petted Harry's shoulder and then stood slightly in front of him as if to protect him from his own brothers. It was a very touching move and Harry had to blink hard for a moment to regain control.

"I'm sorry Harry," Fred leaned down to rub his ankle, peering vaguely around, "I didn't think. Dobby said you'd been under the Cruciatus, I should have realised the tickling spell would hurt."

"It's ok Fred," Harry lied, "Don't worry about it. What are you two doing here?"

"There's been some trouble," George sighed and sat on the ground, his hand now wrapped in his hanky. Fred also sat down, and Harry reached out to tug on Ronnie's shirt. The little boy came and sat in Harry's lap, rubbing at hands that wouldn't quite stop shaking. The Twins shared a look, and then faced forward, looking uneasily at the empty air in front of them as they launched into their explanation, finishing each others sentences in the usual way. Harry didn't have the heart to tell them that they were looking off to his left.

"The Minister of Magic is hounding the Headmaster…"

"He's trying to block all mention of Death Eater activity…"

"Especially after the events at the end of this year…"

"This means that Dobby here hasn't been able to get a minute alone with the man…"

"We eventually managed to convince him to tell us what was happening…"

"And when we realised you needed a port key…"

"We thought we'd come get you ourselves…"

"Because the port keys spell is not one we know…"

"Or at least know well enough to use safely…"

"Trust me, we found that out the hard way…"

"So we followed Dobby out here to bring you to the Burrow…"

"Unfortunately the Ministry knows that Ronnie is still missing, so they're monitoring the Floo at home…"

"This is a bigger problem than usual because not only does it restrict what mum and dad can do…"

"But also because your godfather and Lupin are waiting at the Burrow…"

"See, when he heard what had occurred your godfather insisted on being nearby…"

"He turned up with Professor Lupin only hours after the attack on the Express…"

"And nothing anyone says will persuade him to go somewhere safer…"

"So the sooner we go the better."

That was true. Sirius was at terrible risk of being caught, and Harry didn't want to even think about his godfather being kissed by Dementors because Harry had been so slow at walking to safety.

"How were you planning to get us back to the Burrow?" Harry asked. Ronnie was still scowling at his brothers, and Harry hoped the boy would calm down soon. If Ronnie took it into his head to be stubborn then things could get nasty very quickly. He started carding a hand through baby soft hair, knowing how much the touch calmed him down, and was relieved to feel the little body in his lap losing some of its tension.

"Dobby here agreed to show us where you were…" Fred started.

"And we thought we'd side along apparate you back to the Burrow. We practised with Ginny a few times before we left," George finished the sentence, a faintly hopeful look on his face. Harry didn't know much about apparating, but he got the vague idea from their expressions that this plan was not without its dangers. However, the thought of Sirius getting caught was enough for him to accept it at once.

"You'll take care of Ronnie?" he worried aloud, and Fred got a very soft look on his face.

"Yes, provided he stops kicking me," the Twin agreed, "I need to concentrate, and kicking me might make us have an accident."

"Ronnie?" Harry prompted and the little boy in his lap looked up at him and rolled his eyes before heaving a sigh.

"Alright then," he conceded in a heavy voice and squirmed off Harry's lap, "I won't kick him when we're apparating."

Harry had a vague feeling he should be informing his friend that he shouldn't be kicking people in the first place, but decided not to bother. Ronnie was going to be with his mum and dad soon, and they could worry about his behaviour. With Dobby's help – the elf was a lot stronger than he looked – Harry got to his feet and watched as Fred picked Ronnie up cautiously. It took a bit of scuffling to get the small boy in a safe position, mainly because Fred couldn't see where his burden's limbs were and Ronnie didn't appreciate the manhandling.

"We'll go first," the Twin announced and got a look of concentration on his face. Seconds later there was a loud crack and the two brothers were gone.

"Harry? How bad is it?" George asked at once, holding an arm out in invitation. Harry shuffled heavily over to him, wrapping a leaden arm around the Twin. George pulled him into a hug and Harry found himself leaning heavily, his head pressed into the narrow chest. He hated himself for being weak enough to need the comfort, and hoped that George wouldn't tease him about it later.

"Its bad," he admitted reluctantly, "I… it's like they're still casting the curse on me."

George swore in his ear and tightened his hold. Harry was never sure afterwards how he managed to stay silent when the magic began.

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	7. Chapter 7

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Puppy Dog Tails

George managed somehow to keep Harry from falling on his face, but Harry couldn't contain the distressed whine of pain that squeezed through his tight throat. Over the twin's shoulder Harry could see Molly sitting on the couch under the front rooms window, Ronnie cuddled in her lap, her face distressed. She couldn't see her son, but her memory was standing her in good stead as she rubbed the small back and soothed him. Ronnie had apparently given in to the stresses he'd been under since waking and was crying softly, his head buried in her neck. Arthur was hovering beside her, a hand on Ronnie's head, and if Harry could have spared a thought from the pain he'd have been happy to see the reunion.

As it was he could not contain the soft sounds of pain that squeezed from him with each breath, and George was finding it harder and harder to hold him up.

"Give him to me," a hoarse voice demanded, and capable hands slid clumsily over him for a moment before strong arms plucked him up. Harry was aware of moving through the room and then he was in someone's lap, the faint doggy smell identifying his godfather. He clung with weakened fingers, his head falling limply to the thin shoulder, and a hand located and caressed his hair gently.

"I'll kill Fudge," the faint growl was accompanied by the odd combination of chocolate and a sort of musk, and someone perched on the arm of the chair that Harry and Sirius were in. The warmth of the two men, combined with their scents, teased a very old memory to the surface, of being very small and very safe and very loved. Harry hiccupped, unable to stem the tears that trickled steadily from his eyes as everything came crashing down on him at once.

"Hush now, Harry," Sirius sounded desperately worried and Harry tried to swallow the unnerving sounds, deeply embarrassed but desperate for the comfort on offer, "Moony, he sounds terrible."

"Hush now Harry-pup," Moony leaned over, "You're safe now Pup, I promise. Ron is safe too."

Something eased in Harry at that, and Sirius and Remus both gasped, though they managed not to jostle him. The pain, which had flared to agonising levels, was starting to fade to the gnawing ache that Harry was beginning to think of as normal.

"Oh Ronnie! Arthur, he looks just as he used to when he was small!" Mrs Weasley's comment clued Harry into the breaking of his invisibility spell. That meant that Sirius and Remus could see him, which meant they could see the shaking of his limbs and the way his fingers were slowly curling into claws that he couldn't straighten for love or money.

"Harry?" Sirius voice was very gentle, and he made an effort to get control of himself and move his head just enough to meet his godfathers worried eyes. The hand in his hair didn't shift, though Remus did start rubbing his head very gently. Harry didn't have the strength to resist and he leaned into the touch hungrily, tears welling in his eyes once more.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, wanting to explain everything at once but only coming out with the least important, "I got expelled."

"Don't worry Pup, we'll sort it out," Sirius murmured, "I know you're hurt, but I need to know whatever you can tell me about the spell that made Ron into a child."

"Death Eaters did it," Harry mumbled his head sagging on his neck, "Three different spells at once, and I couldn't hear them all, and I couldn't stop it, and then they wanted to kill him, just like Cedric, and I wouldn't let them, but I can't remember how I did it, and then when I woke up he was still little."

"Three different spells?" that was Bill's voice, but Harry couldn't see him, and didn't want to turn his head to look, "That's not good, it means that the change was accidental. We've got no way of mapping the arithmancy accurately without knowing exactly which three spells were said, and no way to reverse the spell without risking Ronnie."

"I've got their wands," Harry tried to get his clawed hand into his pocket, unable to restrain a his of pain as he attempted to force his fingers straight with little success, "I took their wands. I thought you could use them to find it out, to make him better."

"Easy pup," Remus leant down to murmur in his ear, "I've got it."

Harry sighed at the loss of the strong hand in his hair, but didn't protest otherwise. He felt the wands he was carrying being pulled from his pocket, and then sighed again when the hand returned, the comforting gesture of immeasurable worth to the teen. Sirius looked a little amused, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. For the first time in his young life, Harry felt safe enough to lean on the strength of another, and even Sirius' amused reaction to this was free of malice. The physical pain was still only barely tolerable, but his mind was beginning to slow under the influence of their caring attention.

"We need to get a healer for Harry," Remus announced over towards the adult Weasley's, "Arthur, can you call for one? Poppy maybe? And Sirius, I'm sorry but you have to go. If you're caught…"

Harry tensed and then struggled to free himself from strong arms and the oddly comfortable lap he was resting on. Pain flared sharply with each movement and he was vaguely aware that he wasn't moving as strongly as he should have been. He was angry with himself for forgetting the danger Sirius was in, and disgusted that he'd been so selfish as to keep the ex-convict in public for his own comfort.

"Pup… shhh, stay still, it's alright… Moony do you think it's a fit?" Sirius sounded frantic, but Harry managed to get his hands on the thin shoulders and look his godfather in the eye.

"You're not getting caught because of me," Harry panted, his voice a thin thread of sound instead of the commanding tone he wanted, "Let go Sirius! You've got to…"

"It's alright," Sirius gathered him close and rocked them both in the chair a little. Harry thumped his hand weakly on the nearest shoulder, frustrated that he couldn't just get up and order the man to safety. He'd fought so hard all his life to be independent and self reliant and was terrified that the only moment of weakness he'd indulged himself in had put his fathers' best friend at serious risk. This was what came of relying on adults and Harry wished he had the strength to peel away from the man that was holding him like a son; it wasn't just his physical condition that had led him to seek the comfort he'd so often longed for. Now Sirius would be Kissed, and it would all be Harry's fault. Remus would hate him, and Ron would think he was some sort of dangerous and reckless idiot. His friend would probably even stop talking to him again…

"I'll Change into Snuffles," Sirius' voice cut through his whirling thoughts, "If anyone asks I'm a stray you picked up in the woods. Dobby brought me back at your insistence when the twins fetched you and Ron, ok? No one will know I'm here, just Snuffles, and Moony will stay with you, ok Pup?"

"Moony?" Harry begged, "Make him be safe."

"I will Pup," the werewolf stopped petting his hair, and instead stood up before picking Harry up out of Sirius warm lap. As Harry watched, his godfather changed into Snuffles, the huge dog leaning up to lick a dangling hand, the touch barely felt amongst all the other phantom things that Harry's nerves were reporting to him. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep track of where he was and what was happening, something that he vaguely felt should have worried him under other circumstances. Pain throbbed and coursed roughly through his body, making even that thought a fleeting one. His struggles had not helped his condition at all. He didn't have the strength to insist that he stand on his own, and wished that he'd managed to keep his pain to himself when George had apparated them.

"Take him up to Ron's room," Arthur Weasley's voice floated over to the exhausted teen, "I'll get that healer organised."

"Come on Pup, lets get you better," Moony rumbled, and Harry leaned his head tiredly on the mans shoulder, giving in and letting the adults take charge. He watched in a pained daze over Moony's shoulder as Snuffles trotted along at heel; by the time they put him on Ron's bed he was out of it.

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	8. Chapter 8

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Leaving A Bad Taste

Potions always left a lingering aftertaste on the back of his throat; something that was even less pleasant than their original taste. If he'd put his mind to it, Harry would have been able to track the passing of time by the changes in the aftertaste, but his mind was apparently too busy looking for a place that was as far away from the pain as possible. When he finally managed to corral his thoughts and gather his senses, Harry had no idea of how long he'd been in bed, or what day it was.

There was a soothing voice off to one side, and he forced himself to pay attention long enough to realise that someone who sounded like Remus was reading aloud. Harry couldn't remember anyone ever doing that for him, and felt very touched that the werewolf would spend his time performing such a service for him. He made a mental note to thank his father's friend; even if he had no idea what Moony was reading, or how long he'd been doing so.

There was a warm presence snuggled along the front of him, which confused Harry until he worked out that he was lying on his side, which allowed the large furry animal to press quite closely against him. His arm was actually draped over the creature, and from the angle of said arm the animal was not small. There was a wall at his back supporting him, and he supposed that dog, for that was what it smelled like, was also supporting him from the front.

Time passed in a pleasant haze, the aftertaste of potions and pain fading off into the manageable distance. Each time the taste renewed itself, though it was also possible that someone was feeding the potions to him, the pain got smaller and duller and further away. Eventually it tapered off altogether, and Harry would have slumped in relief if his body wasn't already limper than an overcooked pasta noodle. It came to him that he actually didn't seem to have much control over his limbs at all; in fact if he was honest he'd have to say that he had none. This awareness distressed him a little, and when he tried to communicate that distress to the man reading to him, hands petted his hair and Remus' gentle tones dropped from reading volume to soothing, until Harry gave up worrying and rested in the comfort offered.

Eventually more and more of the world pressed itself into Harry's sphere of awareness. He started to notice the difference between the warmth of the sun shining over his bed, and the coolness of the moon. He became aware of the way his body was curled, and the breathing of Snuffles as his godfather pressed against him. He began to follow along with the story that Remus was reading, something about a Wizard that was also a detective and his clumsy, Muggle-loving partner. He noticed when Mr or Mrs Weasley took over from Remus: Mrs Weasley read a little too slowly for Harry's taste, and Mr Weasley did the voices differently to Remus. Snuffles left the room twice a day, to eat and take care of his own needs, and Remus would take that time to hold Harry gently, and call him Pup, something that embarrassed and comforted him in equal measures. The werewolf called himself Moony during that time, and Harry was beginning to replace Professor Lupin's more formal title with that gentle name in his mind. He knew that the werewolf wouldn't mind.

After a while of this Harry felt ready to open his eyes. He felt better, though still a little disconnected from the world, and wanted to reassure the werewolf who had recently begun fretting to Madam Pomfrey that Harry hadn't woken yet. The school Matron was too cool to express her own concerns, but Harry knew that he'd been out of it long enough for there to be talk of trying to get a Healer from St Mungo's in. He didn't want that, as it meant that there would be an official close to Sirius, even if he was in his dog form right now.

The room he was in was so obviously Ron's – the posters on the wall confirmed that, as did the tank of frogspawn and the crooked bookcase of tattered books. The hideous orange of the Chuddley Cannon uniforms on the wall had faded over time, and not necessarily in a good way. The narrow bed and the faded and worn rug on the floor were the same, though Harry had never slept in Ron's bed before. For a moment he worried that his friend wasn't here, and wondered where Ron was sleeping if Harry was in his bed, but his brain told him that the answers to those questions would only be given him if he asked, and so Harry stirred his sleep heavy body and cleared his throat. Snuffles' head snapped up so quickly Harry was amazed the bear-like dog didn't give itself whiplash, and Remus stopped mid word.

"Moony?" he rasped, "Where's Ron? Is he ok?"

"He's fine Pup," Remus stooped over the bed, one hand restraining the whining Snuffles, "How do you feel?"

The worry in his eyes and the tension in his voice told Harry that he needed to be honest. Lying about his condition would only make things worse when he was next examined by the Matron. Moony and Snuffles were worried enough as it was without him adding to their concerns.

"Disconnected… like my body is on the other side of the room," he confessed, "It doesn't hurt anymore though. Does that mean I have to keep taking potions? It's the potions that are disconnecting me, right?" truth be told Harry was a little worried that he was so far removed from his body. He wasn't entirely sure a pain free existence was worth this odd sensation at all.

"No, no, you're going to be fine," Remus looked relieved, "You've still got some of the last potions in your system. When they've worn off we'll be able to tell if all the nerve damage is healed. You have to promise to tell me if the pain comes back, Pup, even if it's just a little bit."

"Ok," Harry nodded and clumsily rubbed the head that was butting anxiously at his hand, "M ok Snuffles."

Snuffles didn't look too convinced, but was clearly not prepared to make an issue of the matter right now. Harry grinned at the dog and then pushed up to lean against the headboard. Remus was there in a flash, putting his arm around Harry and supporting him. Harry kept him close once he was upright by the simple expedient of leaning back on his arm and tangling a hand in his worn robes. Snuffles now had his head in Harry's lap and the teen put his free hand into the messy ruff before sighing comfortably.

"Thank you both for staying," he tipped his head onto Moony's shoulder, "But I have to ask… why Pup?"

The nickname had bothered him, not because he didn't like it, but because he wasn't sure where it had sprung from. Professor Lupin had never called him that, and Sirius had never mentioned it in his letters. Harry had a sneaking suspicion it was from his baby days, in which case asking about it could very well garner him another tale in his slim treasury of stories about his parents. Remus blushed and Harry snickered, rubbing his cheek on the thin shoulder.

"Moo-nee," he teased, "You're blushing."

Snuffles also sounded like he was snickering, and Moony heaved a sigh that fooled no one.

"When we babysat for you… we called you our pup. We told Prongs he had no say in it, because we outnumbered him. Lily agreed, much to my surprise, but she explained that there was no way that she was calling her only son a fawn," Moony smiled when Harry blushed and made a noise intended to indicate his extreme agreement with that sentiment.

"Prongs didn't seem to mind," Moony continued, "Although he said we'd better not be trying to influence your animagus form. Lily mostly called you Harry, but if she wasn't calling you that… then she called you Son."

Harry closed his eyes. He didn't need to be a Ravenclaw to hear the capital letters attached to that name. Son. He sighed and rubbed his head into Remus' shoulder again, and got a warm cuddle for his pains.

"I was their son once," Harry tried to explain, and Remus shushed him gently. Harry had almost forgotten that he'd been someone's son, loved and protected by his parents. The time with the Dursley's had all but obliterated the knowledge, and this afternoon's reminder was a pleasant one.

Harry sighed after a while and sat up a bit, smiling at his Moony.

"I think… I'd like to still be your pup," he offered, "If you'd want…"

"I would like that very much, Harry. Moony and I have both missed our Pup. The wolf was always aware of you, though he never came in contact with you until third year… if Padfoot hadn't been there…" Remus looked pale but Harry shook his head, shaking his handful of robes to get the older man's attention while Snuffles did his best to soothe his pack mate.

"It's ok, I'm not afraid of my pack leader," it was the right thing to say, and the absolute truth. Remus' eyes almost glowed golden for a moment, and he pulled Harry close, scenting him and growling a little as the wolf instincts surged to the fore. Harry hung limp in the grip, completely at ease. The wolf wouldn't hurt his pup. Eventually the wolf settled down and Harry smiled up at Moony, settling into his side happily.

The door to Ron's room opened and Matron Pomfrey bustled in. When she realised he was awake she made a pleased noise and whipped her wand out. Harry sighed in resignation, as only a teenaged boy could, and braced himself for her examination. Moony snickered, but stayed close.

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	9. Chapter 9

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Knows no Bounds

Harry had a nap once the pleased school Matron bustled from his room, and when he woke someone had kindly reconnected him to his body. He celebrated that by petting Snuffles properly and sitting up under his own power. Although he was no longer in pain, and in full control of his body, Harry had no desire at all to climb out of the bed and go wandering around. He was hoping to stay awake long enough to see Ron this time, and welcomed Dobby and his tray of light broth and fruit as a way of achieving that goal.

Dobby was still wearing his many hats, but had appropriated the threadbare towel that the Dursley's had given Harry back in his first year for school. The little elf wore it as a toga and it was in pristine condition, unlike the filthy pillow case that he'd been wearing when Harry first met him. Harry frowned, thinking over the significance of several things Dobby had said, plus the towel he was now wearing and announced his conclusions to the world in an indignant comment.

"Dobby, I never wanted you to give up your freedom for me! You're my friend!"

"How did you know that Dobby has bound himself to you?" Moony interrupted from the side, and Harry turned to look at his werewolf, puzzlement shining in green eyes.

"Well he's wearing my towel, which I assume is significant. He also called me Master or Master Harry in the woods, not Harry Potter as he usually would," Harry explained, and Moony nodded, understanding in his eyes.

"I forgot how intuitive you can be, Harry," the former professor murmured, "But yes, you are correct. Dobby has bound himself to you. He's been preparing your food at his own insistence."

"Master doesn't want Dobby?" Dobby quavered from where he stood and Harry reached out a hand, patting the bed beside him in invitation.

"Sit up here, Dobby," Harry sighed, and watched the elf crawl up beside him, delight and worry warring for equal place in his expression. The elf had always been his friend of sorts, though Harry wasn't completely comfortable with the over the top hero worship that Dobby had for him.

"I don't want you to be a slave, Dobby," Harry began, "You were miserable with your former masters, and I don't want you to give up something you wanted so desperately just to take care of me."

"Dobby wants his master;" the elf muttered stubbornly, "Dobby is a good elf and takes good care of Master and his Wheezy. Dobby doesn't want to be free any more; he wants to be Master Harry Potter's elf. That way Dobby can protect his master."

"Harry, it's up to you," Moony butted in, "But it would be an extra protection for you. The fact that Dobby could find you in the woods was an immense comfort to all of us."

Harry bit his lip and then nodded reluctantly, judging that upsetting Dobby by freeing him right now would only cause problems. He would make sure that the elf was well treated; there was no way he'd agree to abuse or punishment for the elf after the way the Dursley's had treated him.

"Thank you Dobby," Harry sighed and the elf beamed so brightly Harry thought he'd be blinded. With a snap of his fingers the elf was gone, the tray he'd brought in across Harry's lap, loaded with a tempting array of things to eat. Harry was only interested in light food, and Dobby had made sure that the portions weren't too daunting. Harry dipped into the delicious broth cautiously, and when his stomach didn't do anything that he thought he'd later regret, he began spooning it up slowly, savouring the simple flavour as only a child who'd been deprived of meals could.

"Harry… Dobby's isn't the only magical bond that has been formed," Moony said hesitantly, sipping from the large mug of tea that had popped up next to his elbow. Snuffles growled slightly, but whatever his objection, it was clear that Moony was going to tell Harry none the less.

"Do you remember much about the attack in the clearing?" Moony asked cautiously, and Harry frowned a little, stirring the broth for a moment before sipping the weak tea on the tray as well.

"I think so," he smiled at Snuffles, who looked very much like he wanted to interrupt this discussion, but couldn't think if a way to do so without Harry ending up wearing the contents of the tray, "When they first attacked the train, we were trying to hunker down and hold them off. It didn't take long for the younger years to panic, and some managed to get off the train and into the woods. Hermione and Ron and Neville and I all decided we'd better go after them, and somehow we got split up. I ran into a mixed bunch of first years, and there was a Slytherin girl trying to organise them back onto the train. I backed her up, but we were spotted. I told her to get the others under cover and tried to lead the Death Eaters off. One of them got me with the impedimenta curse, and while I was slowing down, they put up a spell barrier to keep me in the clearing. Once they realised who I was…" Harry shuddered, "It wasn't fun to be me at all…"

The pain had been more than he'd ever thought one body was capable of feeling, let alone bearing. How he'd managed not to break there and then was something he'd never be able to explain.

"Ron got through the spell barrier and tried to fight them off you," Moony prompted, obviously distracting him. Harry gave his pack leader a grateful smile and nodded, then frowned.

"I don't know how he got in though," Harry sipped some more tea, thinking, before realising that Moony had already given him a pretty big clue, "Moony? Is that the other bond you meant?"

"Yes," Moony gave him a proud look, "You've got it. Ron has formed a magical bond with you, and in part it was that bond that helped him defend you, just as it was that bond that changed the original set of curses into something much milder. Instead of killing him, they reduced his age."

"But you said he was back to normal… didn't you? He's ok, right?" Harry started fretting, wishing he had more energy to go track his friend down for himself. Snuffles barked at him, and Harry jumped, his train of thought broken.

"He is back to normal. The wands you took gave the Healers from St Mungo's the information they needed to reverse the spells, and also implicated their owners in the attack," Moony soothed, "It was while they were taking care of Ron that the bond between the two of you was brought to light."

"Bond?" Harry frowned, "I don't remember performing any spell with Ron that would bind us together. The house elf bond is formed by the elf, right, so Dobby didn't need my input to bond us, but I thought that Witches and Wizards need to both participate…"

"Not in all bonds," Moony sighed, and Snuffles echoed the sigh, slumping back to the bed and glaring at the determined werewolf, "In some cases Harry, two people can form a bond that amounts to matrimony. It's done by their magic, and although no actual spell is cast, they both consent to it, sometimes unconsciously. It's known as a Soul Match, and it's very rare and very precious."

"_I'm_ _married to Ron?_" Harry sputtered, "We _wanted_ to get married? But, Moony, we're not even out of school yet. We haven't even taken our OWLS!"

"Interesting that your first protest isn't that he's a boy," Moony said gently, and Harry spluttered.

"What's that got to do with it? He's _Ron,_ of course he's a boy!" he waved a hand, trying to get the discussion back to the important point, "Aren't we too young to be married to anyone? What if he meets someone else?"

"Harry," Moony lifted the tray from the teens lap and pulled him into a hug. The thought of Ron finding someone else to love made Harry feel sick, though he didn't really understand why. He and Ron belonged to each other in a sort of comfortable arrangement that Harry had always kind of assumed would continue for the rest of their lives. Marriage had never really come up for consideration in his short life, and the implications of the bond were crowding in on him in a noisy jumble. He leaned into Moony's hug, bewildered by his feelings and wondering if he was still on some sort of illicit potion.

"Harry, the nature of the bond is such that there is no one else for Ron or you. You'll always be Harry and Ron, ok, and eventually your friendship will develop into something deeper. Right now, all you have to worry about is being Ron's friend, and he yours. Things will sort themselves out in time," Moony murmured into his hair, and Harry nodded, trying to push the worry from his mind.

This was helped by a shadow blocking the window, followed by a sharp rap. Moony waved his wand at the casement, and Harry watched in dazed bemusement as Ron flew in through the narrow window on one of his families' old broomsticks, alighting beside the bed and dropping the battered thing to the floor before clambering over Snuffles to give Harry a hug too. The dark haired teen made a contented sound and leaned into the rare contact, pleased to see his friend returned to his familiar and comforting form.

0o0o0o0


	10. Chapter 10

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Plots and Plans

"Am I expelled?" Harry suddenly remembered to ask a few hours later. Once Ron had let go, he'd gone to sprawl at the end of Harry's bed. Moony had come to join Harry at the head of it, and Snuffles had been forced to go sit beside Ron because everyone's feet were in the middle. Ron had insisted on filling Harry in on what had been happening while he was unconscious, and Moony had joined in as well. Snuffles had even made his own contributions, barking or growling or huffing at them as they spoke.

Only three students hadn't participated in the defence of the train when it was first attacked, and that was because they'd been knocked unconscious. The rest of the school had pulled together, irrespective of House or age, and defended their fellows fiercely. Several of them had been hurt, one or two quite badly not counting Harry, and the green eyed teen was relieved to hear that no one had died, although it had been a close run thing.

The Death Eaters had port keys with them, and orders to send groups of children off with those port keys in random order. The port keys had sent the children to remote locations all over the British Isles, creating a lot of panic. This was the effect that Voldemort had apparently been aiming for without the need to actually deal with any of the children that he was terrorising; from what Moony said, the Ministries refusal to acknowledge his triumphant return to the corporeal world had angered the self declared Dark Lord, and this was his way of forcing the issue. Of course that didn't mean that the Dark Lord's plans couldn't change, and when Harry's attackers had spotted him and realised that an exception should be made they had therefore decided to torture him into weakness before sending him to their Master.

Harry had made them skip over that bit, not wanting to remember it in any detail while he was still enjoying the absence of pain.

Because the Minister had been so adamant that Harry and Dumbledore had been lying about Voldemort's return, the attack on the Hogwarts Express, complete with an ominous Dark Mark floating in the sky above the crippled train, was enough to get him removed from office. There was a temporary Minister in place, and elections were scheduled soon. Mr Malfoy's involvement in the attack was brought to light as well, and the evidence of his wand was enough to earn him a long sentence in Azkaban, along with Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle. That had rocked the social world somewhat and people were very carefully reviewing their acquaintances, anxious to separate themselves from any family with Dark sympathies. Mr Malfoy had claimed to be under the Imperious curse, but no one could cast Unforgivables under the Imperious, a well established fact that he had overlooked. Harry made a mental note to keep away from Draco Malfoy next year, as it was Harry's actions that had led to his father's imprisonment.

The teachers had apparated to their students assistance once the wards on the train managed to overcome the nullifying field set up by several of the Death Eaters. Snape had been hexed for his trouble, as had the Headmaster. McGonagall apparently had wicked sharp reflexes and an even sharper tongue on her, because she'd avoided the hexes sent her way and deducted House points all in one stunning movement. The students had realised that some of the adults were apparently on their side, and began to be a bit more discriminating in their aim. Only fifty or so students were still on the train at that point, the rest of them having fled into the woods, and the teachers had been hard pressed to locate everyone. They hadn't realised that the Death Eaters were randomly port keying people out until quite late in the day, and by that point Dumbledore had been so besieged by Fudge and the Press, not to mention frantic parents, that he'd been unable to send the assistance promised to Harry. A small part of Harry piped up with 'see? he _did_ want to help' but the more cynical part of him racked it up as another reason Why Adults Could Not Be Relied On.

The Weasley twins had noticed Dobby skulking about, and had managed to convince him that as the older brothers of Harry's Wheezy it was their duty to help out. They'd followed the elf to the forest, and rescued Harry and Ron.

"What do you mean, expelled?" Ron frowned, "Why would you be expelled?"

"Harry got a letter from the Ministry, stating that his usage of under age magic was in flagrant breach of the Act and that he'd been expelled from school," Moony rubbed Harry's shoulder gently, "It somehow got leaked to the press that Harry was the only member of the school being prosecuted for his breach, and that he'd already been expelled. Further tracing of that order revealed Fudge's hand in the act, and the order was reversed at once. I'm afraid you're going back to do your OWLS after all, Pup."

Ron subsided, his angry glare draining away into relief, and Harry grinned up at the werewolf curled against him before assuming a mock look of disappointment.

"I thought I'd gotten out of them," he sighed, miming disgruntlement, "Oh well."

"Very funny, Harry," Ron scowled, "There's no way I'm going to cope with OWLS and Hermione's inevitable study mania by myself."

Harry mock shuddered and Moony and Snuffles laughed at them. Hermione in a mood to study was not something to be taken lightly, but they were Gryffindors after all, and they'd cope one way or another. If worst came to worst they'd use Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"Thanks for collecting those wands," Ron said apropos of nothing, "Without them I'd have had to grow up again."

"How did… I mean, the spell is dispersed, isn't it?" Harry asked; worry surging to the fore again. He'd enjoyed his walk with young Ronnie, but much preferred having Ron around.

"Yes, completely dispersed," Ron nodded, "Though the twins haven't stopped teasing me yet, and Mum has a tendency to overreact at the moment. It took them several days to figure it out, and then another few to come up with the proper counter, so she had me as a four-year-old for about a week. I think Dad's worried that it's given her ideas."

"Be nice," Harry frowned, "She must have been really worried."

A mothers love was not something to be made light of, a least not to the boy who could not ever remembering receiving it. Lily must have loved him, but he certainly wouldn't class his aunt in that light. Ron gave him a soothing grin, and nodded, letting him know that the teasing was over for now.

"Why are the twins teasing you?" Moony asked curiously, and was treated to the sight of a proper Weasley Blush.

"When they went to pick Harry and me up, I sort of… told them that he was mine," Ron muttered. Moony and Snuffles shared a long look, which Harry took to mean that the claim was further evidence of the Bond they'd told him of.

"I guess we'll have to get the Marauders to help us prank them, then," Harry suggested, and grinned when Ron gave his very own version of the puppy eyes to Moony and Snuffles. Snuffles looked interested, and Moony only waffled for precisely as long as it took Harry to add his own puppy eyes to the mix.

As the conversation degenerated into a plot Harry settled more comfortably against his pack leader and basked in the sense that for now, everything in the world was as right as it could be.

0o0o0o0

END

A/N - - - - - And no, I don't plan a sequel, or any one shots. Sorry!


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